


Leaves of Autumn

by lumienarc



Series: Hauntober 2020 [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26769970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumienarc/pseuds/lumienarc
Summary: Entry for Hauntober 2020, prompt #2 Leaves
Series: Hauntober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948243
Kudos: 2





	Leaves of Autumn

There was a time in his life that he was not something people would point and stare every single time he was in the public. He was sure of it, but he could not remember it well. It had been a long time ago—he could not recall how long had it been since, nor he could regain actual memories of his past self. The first memory that he had right now was of leaves. The leaves were in various colours of red, orange, yellow, and brown. They fell from the tree above him, one by one, riding the wind. Sometimes they travelled away, but at the time of his awakening, one of the leaves fell and softly landed between his eyes. 

There was only silence, and the sky was gloom, but not in a depressing way. The light was dim, it was autumn after all. It was not night and it was not morning, but he could not hear people anywhere or animals. How strange, he thought at first. He stayed still for a long time with that leaf on his forehead. It was annoying for his eyes, so the eyes ignored it just as they ignored his nose. In his mind, there was nothing. He just wished he remembered who he was and what he was doing there, lying under a maple tree. For the longest time, he just did not think. Then, it came into his attention that his limbs were numb and his heart did not make a sound. 

“What has happened to me?” 

Thankfully, a piece of himself, his voice, was unchanging. It felt strange as if he hadn’t spoken for a very long time. He knew he could be quiet from time to time, but this was different. His throat felt dry if not dusty. How was a throat dusty? He tried to move his right hand to pick up the leaf that occupied his forehead. It moved, but he almost did not feel it. He had a black glove covering his hand and long sleeve—it was familiar, his evening coat. He picked the leaf ever so gently and then stared at it as he twirled it between his fingers. He almost did not feel the leaf’s texture. It was very strange. After a long time of spacing out, he finally thought again. 

“I went to the garden party.” 

Memories slowly returned to him, but in fragments. He remembered dressing up and brought to the carriage by his parents. He was reading. His father talked with his mother. The carriage swayed constantly and jumped a little every now and then because of bumpy roads. He remembered the party. He remembered a group of his peers watching him from across the garden. Then, he remembered one of them came up to him, and said— 

“ _You are a disgusting human being, haven’t you heard? Everyone here hates you for all the bad things you did to them. You might be younger than me, but you are by far the worst human being to ever attend this party. You should die for the goodness of people_.” 

He remembered that boy was five years older than he was, and strangely that boy he had known since birth. This memory did not make any sense. He shook away the thoughts. He decided he wasn’t ready for more memories. He could find out what happened to him without his memories. He slowly sat up and looked at his surroundings. Suddenly, everything changed. 

People existed. Sounds of various sources flood his ears and it was no longer just him and the tree. How odd, now he thought. He saw people, young and old, and he saw buildings. He did not recognise the place. He didn’t recognise anyone. Actually, he might recognise some, but it was even more absurd that his peers now appeared as adults that walked with children of his age! It didn’t make any sense. 

“What is happening? What is wrong with me?” 

He stood up and approached the crowded street. No one paid attention to him at first, so he tugged at a nearby baker’s shirt. The old man turned, looked down at him, expecting a child by the way he felt the tug. He had a smile when he turned his head, but then it ceased and was replaced by utter horror. His eyes widened, face pallid. He stepped back in fear. 

“What in the name of God is that?!” someone from across the street screamed instead. The baker fell on his butt. Now people stared at him and every one of them had the same expression, except for one person. It was the boy from his memory, but he was not a boy anymore. He visibly shook and then he fainted. 

“It’s a demon!” 

“Demon!” 

“Evil spirit!” 

“Run!” 

Everyone hurriedly left in panic. He was afraid and confused. He quickly returned to the woods. He didn’t understand why they feared him so. Could his face have been deformed? He cried, but he couldn’t feel tears. He was hurt, but there was no physical pain in his heart. He fell by the side of a pond at the glade. He looked at the surface fearfully. But he saw nothing reflected back to his eyes. He saw nothing. He saw the leaves and the trees, the sky and the clouds, but not his face or body. Nothing of him. 

Then it dawned on him. 

“I died.” 

Well, it was apparent, he just didn’t want to admit it. Then remained the questions of how and why he died. When, too. What did happen to him that he died? He just sat there and stared blankly at the sky. There was a rush of wind that he didn’t expect. Leaves swirled around him. He almost could see the wind. Orange lines. A tiny twister surrounded him, but he could not be bothered to even move or panic. The next second, he heard a loud explosion and his body felt as if it was ripped to pieces, but _there was no pain_. He just closed his eyes, wishing that it would be his final moment after all. However, it then stopped. He was now somewhere else. 

There was a man, with pale face and golden eyes, wearing green trousers and purple shirt. He was looking at him with a mix of confusion, astonishment, and oddly enough, happiness. He smiled awkwardly and waved his hand. “Hello, little one. Welcome home.”


End file.
